


Butterflies

by robin_dawn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Drama, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Figurative Language, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, poem at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_dawn/pseuds/robin_dawn
Summary: Butterflies are childish. Every person can remember a time in their life- no matter how brief- where they were mesmerized with the beauty of such an insect. The creature is littered through kid’s shows and coloring books- how could anyone expect them to go unnoticed? The colorful patterns; intriguing paths to adulthood; the way that they float through the air, balancing on the breeze all make for a delicate, ethereal form of life. Beautiful is the only word to describe their existence, no matter how juvenile.But, just like every beautiful thing, butterflies hold much darker secrets. And they are not made for children’s ears.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 18





	Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking! This is a dramatic Iwaoi story that uses butterflies to sum up a lot of feelings. Put on your seatbelts, and get ready. I lost sleep for this.

Butterflies are childish. Every person can remember a time in their life- no matter how brief- where they were mesmerized with the beauty of such an insect. The creature is littered through kid’s shows and coloring books- how could anyone expect them to go unnoticed? The colorful patterns; intriguing paths to adulthood; the way that they float through the air, balancing on the breeze all make for a delicate, ethereal form of life. Beautiful is the only word to describe their existence, no matter how juvenile.

But, just like every beautiful thing, butterflies hold much darker secrets. And they are not made for children’s ears.

Oikawa found himself fascinated with the creature. Though he hated insects- ask Iwaizumi; Oikawa was terrified- he never had even the slightest aversion to butterflies. They were too perfectly flawed, too delicately broken, too similar to him to trigger a phobia.

The sight of them did make him a little sad, though.

What most people think of when they see a butterfly is their beauty. People watch every flap of their wings, trace every marking embedded in their body, not even thinking about what darker fate awaits them. People see every dip in their flight as graceful instead of the strain from the weight of life. People see every splash of color on the insect as effortless beauty instead of a mask to make everyone happy. In this way, Oikawa was a butterfly.

Oikawa hoped he wasn’t too similar to the creature, despite its beauty and the love it received. Butterflies may bring joy while they’re alive, but that doesn’t last long. One of the many bittersweet truths about a butterfly is that life takes a toll on them faster than it does most. It becomes a struggle to keep flying, keep posing, keep living very soon in the life of a butterfly. As it does for humans sometimes. Even if mother nature doesn’t erase people as quickly and naturally as it blows away butterflies, that doesn’t mean that humans don’t feel the pressure of simply being. And that doesn’t mean that humans can’t erase themselves before mother nature has a chance to.

Hence, the reason Oikawa was splayed out on a bench in the park at 1am. Pondering the meaning of his life, like any teen would from time to time. Like a butterfly, would his life wink away as quickly as it came into view? Did he want that to happen? Oikawa had been asking himself these questions for the last 30 minutes, and he could assure anyone with 100 percent confidence that he wasn’t getting anywhere. His brain cells had left the chat about 5 minutes into this train-wreck of thought, and they were nowhere to be found.

Maybe he was thinking too hard. Maybe butterflies weren’t worried about what others thought of them. Maybe the beauty wasn’t a mask, maybe it was effortless and simple. Maybe every dip in their flight was just a minor setback caused by the wind. Maybe butterflies were just bugs like everyone said they were.

Maybe he was alone in his feeling alone.

Oikawa’s breath materialized in front of him in the icy air. He had so many friends, so many admirers, yet felt so alone. That was unfair to all of those who had no one to turn to, those who actually were all by themselves. He should feel grateful, because there were so many people who had it worse than he did.

Then why did he feel anything but grateful?

Why were the butterflies still crowding his lungs and stomach, restricting his air and choking out his happiness? Why were the insects growing, duplicating, vibrating in his throat until he felt that the edges of the wings would split through his throat? What was wrong with him?

Usually, butterflies were a symbol of beauty.

Beauty is known to be deadly.

Oikawa wasn’t supposed to feel sad. He had everything. Like a butterfly, he was beautiful and delicate. So many loved him. So many envied him.

So many misunderstood him.

A tear dripped down his cheek, the only sign that he was anything but happy in the darkness. He wondered if everybody would still envy him if they saw him now. Would the girls who squeal over his nonchalant grins still be so delighted if they knew every smile was fake? Would people adore and idolize him if they saw him, sitting alone, crying in the dark? Would he be so popular if everyone knew he was in love with his best friend, a feeling that could destroy their entire relationship? Would people still love butterflies if they knew that the elegant creatures weren’t what they seemed?

Would anybody ever love him if he showed that he wasn’t what he seemed?

The fog grew thick over Oikawa, a tornado of insects hovering over his face and body. It was hard to escape a feeling like this. When he was anxious, sad, or anything in between, he always left a cloud of insects in his wake. When he was anxious, sad, or anything in between, they weren’t butterflies anymore. They were just bugs, clawing at his skin to remind him that nobody is perfect and never could be. Why reach for the stars if so many have settled for the moon? Why follow the crappy Pinterest quotes to ‘be yourself’ when you know that nobody will accept you that way?

Spiraling down, further and further. Oikawa found it hard to snap out of funks that got this bad. By the time he couldn’t breathe or think clearly, when he noticed what was going on, it was usually too late. The layer of insects was skin-tight. This kind of thinking is what drove him to get so mad at Kageyama and Ushijima. This kind of thinking is what drove him to almost hit Kageyama. This kind of thinking destroyed him, telling him the worst things he could hear at the moment. Things that nobody would actually say to another person.

That didn’t matter. He heard those things anyway.

Oikawa was deep in the thought spiral now. All he could do was lay on the bench, crying, as his own thoughts turned against him. He wanted to free himself, to blow away the insects and rejoice with the butterflies, to show himself and take on the world. But he couldn’t do any of that while stuck in the shackles, bolted to the ground with heavy weights. Stuck in the crawling, buzzing, skin-tight suit of bugs.

This is when the thoughts got worse. The thoughts that held a silent taboo over so many people, and scared some into submission. The line that cleared the blur from normal and broken. The thoughts that told him that he wouldn’t regret it if he ended everything. There wouldn’t be a way for him to regret it. It would all be over, all the pain, all the crying. All of it gone.

He hated how much the thoughts made sense.

Oikawa’s phone lit up, snapping enough of him back together so that he could read the text through his blurry eyes.

Iwaizumi: Hey, is that you outside at the park?

The insects began to retreat, whispering their sweet promises to return soon. Oikawa filled his newly-freed lungs with air before texting out a response.

Oikawa: Yeah! I’m just watching the stars. It’s so peaceful out, I couldn’t help myself!  
Iwaizumi: Mhm.  
Iwaizumi: Look behind you.

Oikawa clicked off his phone and sighed. How would he explain this? How much had Iwaizumi seen?

“It seems you’re stalking me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa put the happiness in his voice perfectly, like he wasn’t just crying a second ago. Over the years, he’d gotten scarily good at disguising his face, voice, and emotions. It came naturally now. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Oikawa, you were sobbing.” Way to state the obvious. If Iwaizumi was waiting for confirmation, Oikawa didn’t give him any. He didn’t deny what his best friend said either. “What’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi sat down on the bench, right next to Oikawa. His presence blew the remaining insects off of Oikawa’s skin, and replaced them with a few butterflies of his own. One of the many reasons Oikawa was in love with him. He not only helped scare away the bad, terrible thoughts that could twist him into an ever-tightening spiral, but he added butterflies. He didn’t only defend, he gave. He gave even though he had no idea what he was giving to Oikawa, and why Oikawa needed it.

Of course, Iwaizumi had no idea about his thought spirals and panic attacks. Of course, Iwaizumi is going to wonder what he just walked in on. Of course, Oikawa doesn’t want to tell him.

Of course, this is a huge problem.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Ah yes. He should probably answer the question.

“Nothing’s wrong, Iwa-chan! I was laughing, not crying.” The darkness blanketed most things at that time of night, but Oikawa could still see Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow.

“Don’t lie to me.” Iwaizumi’s soft breathing triggered a ripple of movement through the butterflies in his stomach. Everybody knew about those butterflies, the use of ‘butterflies in the stomach’ was probably one of the most overused analogies in writing. But, naturally, Oikawa had them along with all of his other butterflies.

And their flapping wings pumped blood into Oikawa’s cheeks in a flush that spread over his nose and chin.

“I was just thinking.” It was an answer. No matter how small Oikawa’s voice was when he said it, or the fact that ‘I was just thinking’ could mean literally anything, it was an answer and Oikawa deserved at least a little bit of credit for that.

With every second of silence, his heartbeat triggered a surge of movement from the wings inside his body.

Is it possible to feel the outline of each, individual butterfly in your body even when you know they aren’t physically there?

Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa into his chest, strong against the struggle that the latter put up. The sound of both boys’ heartbeats falling into sync relaxed the tension hovering around the pair. “Do you want to tell me more?”

Yes.

Yes he did.

“Not really.” They both knew this was a lie. It was so blatantly obvious, light against the surrounding darkness. The lie was so clear, you could see through it with no effort or thinking at all. And Oikawa was supposed to be an experienced liar.

“Oikawa?”

His name was all it took to destroy the dam. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. All of these years of keeping secrets and feelings inside, and his name was all it took to release them. He didn’t know he could reach this level of pathetic. But it was happening. He was spilling everything- secrets, tears, hopes, fears.

The butterflies were set loose.

To Iwaizumi’s credit, he listened. He comforted and heard Oikawa out. He actually wanted to help. He actually did help. This was why Oikawa loved him. Because Iwaizumi may not understand everything, but he tried to. He cared, understood, and helped. He helped set Oikawa free.

Oikawa knew that even though he opened up, he wasn’t free. The insects would come back. But for now, he was free. And for now, that was all that mattered.

As Oikawa’s rant sputtered to a stop, he was painfully aware of the fact that he just spilled everything. Well. Everything except his enormous amount of love for Iwaizumi. But that could say a secret, at least for now.

“Do you hate me?” Oikawa’s voice trembled, outlining every butterfly that was living in his small, choked-up throat.

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa for a good 5 seconds before answering. “Of course not. Oikawa, everyone has things they need to deal with, things they are ashamed of. I only wish that you told me sooner, so I could have helped you before it got this bad.”

Oikawa was crying again. This boy was getting a massive headache and needed water stat.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep this a secret.” Iwaizumi went on. “If I knew you were depressed, I definitely would have tried to make you feel at least a little bit better. I know it’s hard, feeling like you don’t belong. Feeling like the butterflies could eat you up at any moment, leaving nothing but an empty space of where you used to be. Wondering if anybody would care if you left. I know how it feels. And I would never leave you because of it.”

Oikawa wiped his nose on Iwaizumi’s shirt. He would have asked if Iwaizumi minded, but at this point it was already soggy with snot and tears. Using the shirt as a tissue again couldn’t make the mess any worse. He was just happy. So happy that Iwaizumi understood. Even happier that Iwaizumi didn’t hate him for it.

“God, I love you so much.”

Oikawa did not mean to say that out loud. If Iwaizumi didn’t hate him already, he would now. Who confessed their lies, depression, anxiety, and love to somebody all in one breath? Apparently Oikawa did.

When Oikawa realized what he said, he froze. Every movement of his hands, the falling of a tear, the buzzing of a butterfly stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to look Iwaizumi straight in the eyes.

But Iwaizumi’s warm laugh told Oikawa that he didn’t need to worry.

“I love you too, Oikawa. You can stop worrying. I’m here.”

And he was. He was there, holding Oikawa in his arms. He was there, wiping away the tears and sacrificing his shirt to take the place of a tissue. He was there to ease Oikawa’s pain and prevent him from hurting again. He was there.

The insects faded.

The butterflies were back. Spreading from his stomach to his lungs. Lungs to his throat. But he now knew what they meant. They meant something different to every person, depending on where that person was in life. For Oikawa, at first, they were happiness and beauty. Then they spun themselves into a chrysalis of fear, loneliness, and depression. When they emerged from the cave, they weren’t new. They were old and worn, they had seen so much already in their short lives.

But they were a new emotion. They weren’t innocent- it was too late for that. They weren’t the ‘feeling of being understood’. That’s just a sappy line from a kid’s show. They were hopeful. Hopeful of a future that had once seemed dark and bleak. The butterflies spoke of new, foreign feelings, anticipation and hope, strength and hope.

That may also seem to be a line straight from a children’s show, but butterflies were known to be childish. They were depicted as beautiful, innocent, and juvenile. They were ethereal and intriguing.

But they held secrets that were not meant for children’s ears.

Oikawa was beginning to think that the secrets might not be so dark after all.

How is it that you float through life, so elegant and untroubled  
Envious of how your story ends  
Life doesn’t treat me so easily  
Put me to sleep with a smile and a kiss  
Underprivileged in the eyes of my heart  
Show me how to live again  
Acquaint me with your eyes, smile, stars  
Loving even through our  
Last words

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading until the end (check the first letter of each sentence of the poem if you haven't already)! I hope you liked it, because it was an emotional rollercoaster to write that required a lot of My Chemical Romance to get into the mood. I accept kudos and comments, so feel free to leave those! Thanks!


End file.
